Diary of a Seed
See Level The air, like my heartbeat, is fast-paced and fierce. It whips and howls around me like I’m inside of an invisible, impenetrable bubble. I’m split in two by land and sea—my bottom half in the water, my top half sitting on the sand right where the shore ends. Along the shore, the wind sends grains of sand flying through the air like they’re being sucked up into the sky. I grip my hair tightly in my hands for fear that it’ll send me flying, too. It would be what I deserve if it did. The moon hangs lower and brighter in the sky than I’ve ever seen it, shining a spotlight on my delinquency. No one is around to see; I timed this perfectly, staying up three nights this week to study when everyone falls asleep and when they wake up, even taking note of what time Aria wakes restlessly in the middle of the night to lap around the sleeping girls a few times before returning to her slumber. That usually happens around three hours before sunset; I gave it an hour after her return for safe measure, just to ensure she didn’t stir anyone else from their sleep with her movements. So the coast is clear now, and I have about two hours left before they start waking up. What I want to do should only take me thirty minutes or less. I’m safe, but as I sit here with my butt growing cold and numb from the rocks beneath me and the moonlight illuminating the goosebumps on my arms from the biting air, I’m questioning whether the effort was worth it. It’s just been so long, though, since I felt my own hands running through my hair. We can handle our pampering for ourselves during the winter months, since there are less 79
